When I arrived in Nduta I was given a tent, some food, some cooking utensils, and some water. It felt odd to be given these items – although I’m grateful, it makes me think of home and all the possessions that I have left behind. And despite the assistance we receive, surviving in the camp is difficult: we don’t have enough food and we’re always hungry.
Each day in Nduta feels like a week, and with each week that passes, my old life seems further and further away. Back home I was a student studying humanities, living a normal life, and preparing for the birth of my first child. It feels strange to think that now I am a refugee, living in a refugee camp. This is not what I expected for my life.
To make matters worse, now I am ill: I’m here in hospital because I have vertigo and awful pains in my stomach. My husband called the ambulance but it didn’t come, so we went to an MSF health post and the staff transferred me here. The doctors say I have severe malaria as well as a urinary tract infection. They’ve told me that there’s a risk that I may miscarry and lose my unborn baby, who is 28 weeks old.
If my baby dies, I’ll feel that it’s my fault. I feel guilty for not being able to provide the best for my child, but it is hard for expectant mothers in the camp to look after themselves. Sitting here, I’m worried about the future. It`s difficult to have any expectations anymore. (February 17, 2017)